Chapter 114: Chapter 114: The Apex Mandate

Chapter 114: The Apex Mandate

The Grand Hall was dead silent. The heavy echo of the ledger slamming against the obsidian table lingered in the air.

Valerius Thorne stared at the leather bound book. For a fraction of a second, the pristine facade of the Incubus Lord cracked. A single bead of sweat rolled down his pale temple.

But Valerius was a politician. He had survived centuries in the Zenith Academy by lying his way out of corners.

He let out a dry, condescending laugh.

"A ledger?" Valerius mocked, looking around the room at the other delegates.

"You invite the rulers of the continent to a peace summit, and you open with a crude, manufactured forgery?"

He turned to King Regent Hardsteel.

"This is exactly what I warned the High Council about. This Goblin is a warmongering savage. He is fabricating evidence to justify stealing Elven lands. He wants to annex our territories to feed his noisy, smoke spewing factories."

Lord Sylas Vane nodded eagerly, wiping his forehead with a silk handkerchief.

"Yes! A complete fabrication. House Vane is a noble lineage of scholars, not thugs."

I did not raise my voice. I did not need to.

I leaned forward, placing my armored hands flat on the table.

"On the fourth day of the Rain Month," I stated, my baritone voice perfectly calm and completely terrifying.

"House Vane transferred exactly fifty thousand gold pieces from their secondary vault to a shadow account in the lower district. Three days later, five assassins from the Faceless Guild breached my courtyard."

I looked at Hardsteel. "Verify the seal."

The King Regent reached out with his heavy metallic hand and opened the ledger. His mechanical eye whirred, scanning the pages with a harsh red light.

"The arcane watermark is fully intact," Hardsteel rumbled, holding the book up for the other delegates to see.

"This is the official, blood bound seal of House Vane. It cannot be forged without the Patriarch’s direct mana signature."

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Warlord Bloodfang leaned back in his chair, a deep, rumbling growl echoing in his massive chest. "So the pretty Elf pays assassins to do his dirty work."

High Lord Malphas did not even look at Sylas Vane. The demon kept his burning eyes fixed entirely on Valerius.

"You scheme like a rat, Thorne," Malphas spat, his voice like grinding stones. "And when you are caught, you lie like a coward. It is pathetic."

Valerius clenched his jaw. His eyes darted around the room.

He saw the pure disgust on the faces of the Beastman and the Demon.

He saw Matriarch Vespera looking at him as if he were a diseased animal.

He had lost the room.

"This is a kangaroo court," Valerius declared, quickly standing up from his chair. He smoothed the lapels of his white suit.

"The Zenith Academy holds sovereign immunity on this continent. I refuse to stand trial in a dirt digging factory orchestrated by a mongrel."

He turned to Seraphina and Lord Vane. "We are leaving. The Summit is over."

Valerius turned on his heel and marched toward the grand double doors.

He did not make it three steps.

Rolf stepped directly into the aisle. The towering werewolf crossed his massive arms. The gunmetal scales of his Ironclad armor shifted with a menacing, metallic hiss.

To his left, Kaelith materialized from the shadows, her vibranium weave completely absorbing the light of the chandeliers. To his right, Lysandra unfurled her razor edged wing guards.

"The doors are locked, Incubus," Rolf growled, flashing his silver fangs.

Valerius stopped. He looked back at me, his eyes flaring with desperate, cornered anger.

"You cannot hold me here, Goblin," Valerius hissed. "If you attack an envoy of the High Council, you will plunge the entire continent into a world war."

"I am not going to attack an envoy," I replied gently.

I stepped out from behind the obsidian table. I walked slowly until I was standing just a few feet away from him.

I towered over the Incubus, the crimson and gold carapace of my armor glowing with a terrifying internal heat.

"We are not going to hold a trial," I told him. "I am invoking the Rite of the Apex."

The moment those words left my mouth, the entire Grand Hall gasped. Even Matriarch Vespera gripped the armrests of her chair, her shadowy gown flaring wildly.

Valerius took a physical step back, his face draining of all color.

"The Rite of the Apex," I recited, letting my voice carry the heavy, absolute resonance of my Law.

"Established by the First Monster Lord who united these warring lands. When diplomacy is dead, and a blood debt is undeniable, the aggrieved ruler may invoke the ancient combat."

I looked at the other monarchs sitting at the table. They were completely silent, bound by the sacred weight of the tradition.

"It is an absolute match to the death," I continued, locking my glowing red eyes onto Valerius.

"No armies. No politics. Just two rulers in the center of the ring. And if the challenged party refuses to fight..."

"The continental magic strips them of their territory, their titles, and their life," Warlord Bloodfang finished for me, a savage, bloodthirsty grin spreading across his tusks.

I fully ignited my C Grade core.

The Fire of Rage flared to life. Blinding crimson and gold flames erupted from the joints of my armor, washing the Grand Hall in an apocalyptic heat. The brass Vanguard Arm hissed, the focal lens in my palm glowing with terrifying, concentrated power.

"You tried to kill my family, Valerius," I said softly, the flames reflecting in his terrified, wide eyes. "You hid behind your proxies and your money. But there is nowhere left to hide."

I raised my armored hand and pointed a single, burning finger directly at his chest.

"I formally challenge you, Valerius Thorne, to the Rite of the Apex. Settle your grudges with your own two hands, or die a coward right here on this floor."